


Light Primary

by relevant_elephant



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relevant_elephant/pseuds/relevant_elephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk wears red briefs under his uniform. One day Spock accidentally catches a glimpse and decides he really wants to see them up close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Primary

||

**_Red:_ ** _one of the additive or light primaries; one of the psychological primary hues; can raise one’s blood pressure; can make one feel welcomed or aggressive._

 

Amanda’s laugh, tinkling like the wind chimes she had hung on the balcony, floated throughout the family room as Spock stared at the red rose, gaze mesmerized. The rare and unexpected sound jerked Spock back into the current time, his small child hands clenching tightly around the thorn-less stem in anxiety. Eyes, mother and child, met, conveying childish disquiet and motherly enjoyment. Amanda, empathetic as ever, attempted to stifle her disturbing glee by muffling the sound with her clenched fist, but Spock still detected the joyful glimmer in her eyes and the minute shaking of her delicate shoulders.

 

“I do not understand why you are acting in such a way, mother. You very well know that flowers are a delicacy for Vulcans-”

 

Amanda let one small giggle escape before she interrupted with, “Nonsense, Spock! You know very well you weren’t attempting to eat it. You were mesmerized by the color. You were like a tiny Terran bull!” And she couldn’t hold her mirth in any longer, peals of laughter filtering out from behind her hand as Spock puzzled over her reference to the earth bovine.

 

||

 

“Mother.”

 

Amanda glanced up from her antique paper book, her other hand lowering her steaming cup of tea to the table as she took in the very serious face of her five year old. “Yes?”

“I cross-referenced ‘bull’ with ‘red’ in the Universal Wide Net and I regret to inform you, mother, that bulls cannot tell the difference between red and other colors. It is the mere action of waving a cloth at the bull that generates the reaction. It is coincidence that the matadors use red.”

 

Amanda quirked a brow, her lips smirking, as she watched Spock’s eyes gravitate toward the bright red curtains she had installed that day. His eyes widened minutely and he stepped closer to them, hand reaching out to caress the fabric. As she turned back to her book, she murmured, “The comparison still fits.”

 

||

 

Spock immediately lost the strain of conversation he and Nyota were having as his captain, sitting across the mess, bent over his legs, correcting a problem with his boot most probably. Spock was not paying attention to that part of Captain Kirk’s body. He was, instead, enthralled by the brief, and against regulations, flash of the captain’s bright red under garments.

 

The contrast of milky delicate skin against the harsh slash of red spiked Spock’s blood. His pupils dilated so swiftly that Nyota, observing Spock in his uncustomary distraction, became concerned. She reached over to tap Spock’s forearm a few times to gain his attention and when that failed, she spoke.

 

“Spock? Are you all right? Should I…”

 

Her voice trailed off as her friend stood, not even seeming to have registered her touch or her words, and started to cross the caff. She tracked him curiously, fingers hugging a cup of coffee, and watched as Spock all but accosted the captain. She pursed her lips as she saw the captain’s face freeze in terrified stupefaction, attempting not to laugh or cry out in warning to the rest of the lunch attendees. She didn’t really know which feeling to entertain at the moment. In the few months she had dated Spock, she’d never seen him act like a… caveman before.

 

Her eyebrows flew to the ceiling as Kirk allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and then toward the mess’ exit. As they passed by Nyota’s table, she cast a questioning/concerned look to her captain but he merely shrugged in incomprehension but negated her ideas of interference. She nodded hesitantly, but against her better judgment. The last time Spock lost control around Kirk, he’d nearly killed the man… and that was only a mere five months ago. As the two men disappeared out of the doors, Nyota decided that unless the captain was not seen in two hours, she’d sound an alert.  

 

||

 

Jim was unaware of what about his person had grabbed Spock’s attention, but he was a red blooded male with the sexual appetite of ten men combined and he hadn’t gotten any since they’d left space dock five months prior. Needless to say, it made resisting the filthy words Spock had whispered in his ear ( _and really, who knew Spock had it in him?_ ) impossible. He nodded absently to gaping crewmembers as he was ushered quite unceremoniously down the corridors by an uncharacteristically aggressive Spock.

 

Once the doors to Spock’s quarters whooshed open, Jim was assaulted by molten heat, beads of sweat immediately popping up on his face and neck and slowly working through his undershirt in an attempt to soak the upper. The sweat, though, was too slow for horny Vulcan for as soon as the doors closed, Jim was skinned like he was a banana and Spock a starving primate. His shirts were tossed through the air carelessly, Jim watching in fascination, unable to wrap his brain around the idea that Spock was so unrestrained that he didn’t fold Jim’s shirts and set them aside.

 

The protraction on his shirts thoroughly diverted Jim’s mind from Spock. And so it was that Jim was pantsless within mere seconds of becoming shirtless. He was unable to process this fact however, as he was thrown quite jarringly onto Spock’s bed, bouncing a few times before finally coming to a rest.

 

Still dazed beyond belief, still unable to process the turn of events from the mess to here – for fear of shorting out his brain – Jim focused on Spock. And promptly decided that thinking was overrated when Spock revealed inch after perfectly porcelain inch of skin, shirts ripping in the seams and pants not even surviving that much in Spock’s hurry to ‘copulate’. Once Spock was gloriously in the nude, he fell to his knees and yanked Jim forward to the end of the bed. Jim thought Spock would remove Jim’s underwear next, but he merely gazed at it, pupils fully blown and engulfing the lighter irides.

 

Spock’s fingers traced the edges of the underwear, from the top band that sat an inch from his belly button, down the sides – inciting shivers of anticipation within Jim’s body – and to the legs of the underwear that ended slightly down his thighs. His hands spread wide then and covered the entire expanse of the material that spread across the tops of Jim’s thighs, leaned in, and just _breathed._

 

Spock could not get enough of that siren’s color on Jim’s milky skin. The vibrant red boxer briefs stood in stark relief to his captain’s silky skin, like blood tumbling out of a wound. It called to Spock, like all appropriately sexy or comforting things in red did. All his experiences with red; the rose his first, the curtains his mother had hung in the kitchen, the red of Nyota’s cadet uniform when they still were together, the alluring color of blood from Jim’s non-life threatening cuts, and now… his boxer briefs; they exploded over Spock’s sense, overriding any common sense and self-preservation he had.

 

The fire ricocheted through his veins and Spock did its bidding. He buried his face quickly and desperately into Jim’s groin, nuzzling his nose frantically along the rigid shaft beneath, mouthing through the fabric. Obscene moans surged from his lips as Jim thrust up into the friction, grinding against Spock’s mouth and eliciting twin undulations from Spock as he absentmindedly humped the air.

 

Fingers dug viciously into Jim’s hips, above the fabric leaving blotches of beautiful, glorious red. Jim gasped as the pleasure/pain of the too-tight grip zinged through him, but then Spock removed his hands, losing connection. He placed one hand on Jim’s butt cheeks, spreading to hold him across both, as his other hand lowered to his own anus, quickly inserting as he willfully relaxed the muscles. His head still nuzzled and bumped at Jim’s penis, mouth breathing and moaning and licking through the vicious red fabric; Spock’s eyes focused completely on the color.

 

He was crazy out of his mind hot for the color and the man in it, his long and sensitive fingers slamming into his own anus at breakneck speed. He thrust his pelvis forward, catching Jim’s lax leg, and the pleasure of pressure on his own penis resulted in drawn out moan that ended with a soft bite to Jim’s red-covered testicles.

 

Jim jumped, shoving his penis further into Spock’s face, nearly suffocating him but Spock was unaware, wouldn’t have cared if he had been. Dying in this way would be the best way to go. Spock continued frotting against Jim’s leg as his fingers thrust into himself from behind, his mouth busy slavering at Jim’s crotch. His teeth barely skinned above Jim’s hard shaft, continually, and the sensation of Spock pounding himself into Jim’s leg shot him off like a rocket, semen soaking through the underwear and making them darker.

 

Spock breathed in the extra musk, his nostrils flaring as his tongue attempted to lap up the release through the fabric. Those dual sensations, paired with the work of his own fingers and pelvis, culminated in the fiercest and scariest orgasm Spock had ever had. He threw his head back as his anus squeezed all feeling from his fingers and his penis discharged his semen, eyes squeezed shut and a wolfish howl on his tongue. His abdominal muscles spasmed uncontrollably, forcing out rope after rope of semen, and supernovas blasted behind his eyes. His legs failed beneath him and he barely registered Jim’s arms catching him before he blacked out. 


End file.
